Diary Of A Wind Disturber - Some Army Stunts

By H.R.Heselwood, “One Of The New Army” ‘Wind Disturber’ Author

Year 1919

 

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to those of the New Army who during the war made the Supreme Sacrifice for King and Country

 

PREFACE

This book is written by “One Of The New Army”.

In which is set forth in an unvarnished form the true experience of the writer, which overtook him whilst taking part in the Greatest War known in History. Just Past.

The author thus trusts that any person sparing the necessary time in the perusal of this book will find it very interesting, and at the same time worth reading.

Yours Sincerely

H.R.Heselwood. Late “Corporal Of Horse”

“Royal Horse Guards (Blues)” and also of “The Nigeria Regt” “West African Frontier Force”

 

The dawn of AUGUST 4TH 1914 witnessed the commencement of what transpired to be (up to this period) the Greatest War in the History of the World.

The countries involved in this Great Upheaval being ENGLAND, FRANCE, RUSSIA, BELGIUM and SERBIA. These nations were termed the Allies, and had in opposition GERMANY and AUSTRIA.

For quite a long time past EUROPE had been in a very unsettled condition. In political language “A world war was in the making” and an ominous cloud was appearing on the Continental Horizon. Friendships existing between FRANCE and GERMANY had become very strained. The German Emperor and his Ministers were out for war and on the assassination of the Crown Prince of Austria the “dogs of war” were unleashed, By Austria declaring war on the Serbs. No doubt the Kaiser using his influence caused Austria to make this decision. He, the “Great War Lord” (the Kaiser) saw what he thought a golden opportunity to commence a war by which he could conquer the whole world.

This had been his cherished ambition for years, but the fates decreed otherwise. For as time went on this cherished scheme was doomed to falure.

The next news we received in England was to the effect that Germany had marched through into Belgium, and was also at war with the French. Had put away treaties like so much waste paper. Laying waste the countryside. By killing, plundering etc as they went along. All civilised powers stood aghast at this unseemly behaviour. England as a community was in a fever of excitement and boiling with rage. On August 14th 1914 the English newspaper informed the public that England had declared war on Germany. All reservists received their calling up notices, and the navy was already mobilised. King George having been present the previous week at a Naval Review held near Spithead. What excitement there was to be sure. Horse drawn conveyances were stopped in the streets at any time or place. If the animals were considered suitable for the army they were immediately taken out of their trappings and sent to a military centre. The owners receiving the price at which they were valued at, and had to get their vehicles away the best way they could. Quite a common occurrence to see numbers of conveyances standing horseless in the different streets of towns and cities. The horses having been claimed by the Military Authorities. Then there were soldiers billeted in schools, houses, hotels etc. In fact troops were everywhere in all kinds of nooks and corners. Consequently some had much better quarters than the more unfortunate ones.

All young fellows worth their salt began to get very uneasy and wanted to be off to meet “Jerry” (GERMAN).

I myself was smitten with the war fever very badly. I tried to enlist in various regiments, but everything appeared to be in such confusion. About this time Lord Kitchener sent forth an appeal for 100,000 men. The enlistment period was for Duration Of War or Three Years. This number was got without any difficulty.

First attempt I tried to join the Yorkshire Hussars, but was put down as I had not much experience of horse riding. Then nothing daunted I attempted the Scots Greys who were at that time stationed at the Cavalry Barracks in the old historical city of York. Was there informed I was too heavy (This was I think only an excuse to be rid of me). In desperation I went up to try and join the Army Service Corps, but was informed they did not require any more men at present. Naturally by this time I was getting much fed up with this Enlisting Business. The next evening I met an “Old Soldier” (a personal friend of our family). Entering into conversation I told him how unsuccessful my efforts had been rewarded to join up. He told me I ought to try & enlist in the Royal Horse Guards (Blues) otherwise called the Household Cavalry. So early the following morning I made tracks towards the Depot at Fulford Barracks, York. Having fully made up my mind this would be my last voluntary attempt to join His Majesty’s Forces, I filled up my attestation papers. Where were you born? Are you married etc? were the kind of questions asked & which had to be truthfully answered. Afterwards having to swear an oath to serve His Majesty faithfully etc. After this “palaver” we were taken to the Military Hospital to undergo a strict medical inspection by the Medical Officer. This took place on the lawn of the hospital and it was some stunt too. We had to take all our clothes off which as it was a nice cold morning in October the fellows were feeling more like jellies than “Army Enthusiasts”. At this period doctors made very strict examinations, but later on were not so conscientious. I past this inspection satisfactory and had handed to me a “free” warrant (Railway) which I was to travel to London by. 

So away for the station I went feeling quite jubilant and looking forward to an adventurous future. (Which I certainly got. Really more than enough.) I was fully intending to join the army for twelve years. Eight years with the colours, and four years on the reserve. (More about this “joining” later on.)I left York 12 noon, and about 5.30 pm I arrived in London. I travelled down with some very nice ladies, who gave me all kinds of good things, grapes, cakes etc and all the time past very quickly.

On my arrival at Kings Cross I did not know where Regents Park was situated exactly, but possessing a good tongue I soon was on the right track & arrived about 6 pm at the “portals” of Albany Street Barracks, Regents Park. Then the fun commenced. One of the fellows said to me “Come on mate and have some tea.” So I followed my guide to what was termed the “Mess Room”, and some mess it was too. This is where I was let into the secrets of “Army Rationing.” The “repast” consisted of bread, dripping and tea (in name only). There are two kinds of army tea. “Ordinary Army Tea” and “Sargeant Majors Tea.” The first named is awful stuff but the latter is A1 at Lloyds, especially if containing a ration of Army Rum. Now, “O.A Tea” is made for the mess rooms. The ordinary people, as it were, and the cooks make for themselves a special brand which is termed “S.M.Tea”. So hence the difference. Needless to say, I always preferred the “S.M.Tea” when obtainable.

Well, lets return to the bread and dripping business. The tea was served up on bare wooden trestle tables. The bread was very dry and the dripping – enough said. Appeared to be more on the floor than on the tables. There was not sufficient basins provided for to drink the tea out of and it was a case of about four men had to drink out of one basin. Needless to say I did not have any tea & filed quietly away.

Coming across another chap who had “just come up” I asked him if he was coming ou to tea and he said “Yes.”This was the commencement of a friendship which lasted right up to the time when the poor fellow was KILLED. We had some very fine times together. Went through as recruits and both was at camp and in France together. When Jim went WEST I missed him very much.

Well we went out and spent a really most enjoyable evening. Returning to barracks about midnight. We had issued 2 blankets each and about twenty of us slept in one small room on the bare boards. This commenced soldiering with a vengeance, and how thankful I was that I had not signed papers to join the army for 12 years. What with the grub and nice hard floor boards for beds etc we were having a most jolly time. “I don’t think”.

Next morning at 9 am we had to go through yet another Medical Inspection. This was a regimental affair and much worse than the previous one. First we had to be weighed, and our height taken. Then we were ordered by a very fierce NCO (the possessor of an “Old Bills Moustache” who when he spoke reminded one of a Sea Lion in the Zoo at feeding time) into the doctors sanctum. Where we went through the various palavers “Say 99” etc.

After the inspection to the Orderly Room we had to go where the Regimental Sgt Major (who was another oddity with moustache muchly waxed and eyes like ferrets) read out the names of the poor creatures who had been selected to don the Khaki for His Majesty’s Service in the Royal Horse Guards (Blues). In all thirty men went up before the doctor and out of that number only seven were selected. I being one of the seven. We each received a Regimental Number. I was NO 2038, and in my army future would be known and called by that number. This was in October 1914, and my troubles now commenced.

At 1 pm we went for our dinners, which we all felt like doing justice to, but Oh My ---the mess room was only a very small room, and here the whole regiment abut 800 men were expected to receive their meals. For this number there were only about 100 plates available , and no system whatever of issuing out the meals. What a “Bedlam” there was to be sure. No one has any idea what it was like. Only the fellows who took part in these daily scrambles. It was a case of the strongest one won. Invariably you had to wait until another chap finished his dinner so you could claim a plate. With a dogs watchfulness you saw him consume each mouthful. For dinner we invariably had stew, which was a very greasy affair, and potatoes (very dirty) boiled in their jackets. Then occasionally for a treat we had pudding, which in the army goes by the term of “Army Duff”. It is very tough & takes a lot of digesting. Not being used to this kind of fare, I generally at dinner time went over to the canteen and bought some bread and cheese, washing same down with a pint of “White” (Beer). Then in the evenings when off parade went outside and had a good “tuck in”. Later on things were more organised and there was plenty of good food.

For the first six weeks of my “Army Life” I did no parades etc whatever. I used to go out every day with other pals. Seeing the sights of London and we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Having some great sport. This was quite easily managed at the outset as each man was in civilian attire. There being not a sufficient supply of Khaki turned out by the manufacturers to meet demands. Everything was in a state of chaos, and people in authority had not the slightest idea of what (individually) you were supposed to be doing. So hence this glorious period of uninterrupted “bliss” (freedom). Until – One Saturday morning we were discovered by one of the old N.C.Os. Who caught us “Red Handed” sitting around a nice fire talking shop and roasting potatoes (previously stolen from the cookhouse) when we should have been down at stables. He said “What are your names?” and when I told him mine he said “Just the man I have been looking for, for the past six weeks”. All the other fellows of course were in the same cart as your humble. So it was a case of “Fall in and follow me.”

Well, we were taken up before the Squadron Leader. The case was explained by the aforesaid N.C.O. and things looked very black for us. I kept putting in my spoke, for which I finally received from the Squadron Leader the retort “Stop talking or I will have you placed in the cells. Needless to say I complied with the instructions given and trembled somewhat (being a young recruit) at the mention of the word “cells”. The officer taking into consideration the fact that all of us were “young soldiers” let us off with a caution (Really we ought to have received no less than seven days No 1.)

After this period of ease I never had chance of a moments rest. Our friend the N.C.O. was in charge of the troop I was in future to be attached to. Unlucky me. My pal (who, by the way was a proper Irishman) and I were forever in some trouble or another. He took care to see that we were present (always) on parades, fatigues etc and if a minute late, look out for squalls. I had innumerable fatigues, picquets & extra night guards up against me. Wherever I turned the eagle eye of the Corporal was upon me. Besides all this I was given the worst horse in the troop to groom. 

The first introduction I had with Old Bill (the horse) I came in violent contact with his heels. I consequently held him in very great respect afterwards. At feeding time, feeding Bill was a worse task than feeding the most ferocious lion at the zoo. He used to lash out with his heels in all directions, and not having previously had much to do with horses I had some most exciting times I can assure you. This difficulty was in due course overcome and one day came when I had the pleasure of saying that I was a fully trained Cavalry Soldier.

After this period of ease I commenced training in earnest for to meet “JERRY”. It was a case of up at 5.30 am (Reveille) every morning. (Sundays included). How awful it was having to get up each morning at this unearthly hour. Nice dark cold and miserable mornings and made everyone wonder how long it would last (the war). 5.30 am - 6.30 am Stables; having to groom etc one or more horses. Then to breakfast and at 6.50 am we turned out with horses saddled for Riding School (otherwise known as the “Chamber Of Horrors”). The first morning in the school I had to watch other recruits going over the jumps. The riding master passing the remork “How very easy it was to jump”. Whilst watching I began to wonder what had possessed me to join a horse regiment and my heart felt to be down somewhere in the region of my boots.

How gladly I would have run away from the school if the opportunity had arisen. It was now too late to have any regrets, and so I had to pull myself together as well as possible. During the course of the mornings ride the “Rookies” (I being one of the number) had to give an exhibition of jumping. Take it from me, it was some exhibition. We were numbered off consecutively 1’s 2’ & 3’s. I was one of the N’s 1. The command was given “Nos 1, down the Centre” and I went over the jumps fine. Wondering at the same time what I had been worrying about. So thought I would have another go. Go out of my turn quite confident like. With the disastrous result of falling off. Head buried well in the “Peat Moss.” Then I came under the glance of the Riding Master & heard in a gruff voice “Come back that man.” I was made to go over the jumps several more times. On each occasion just hanging on by the skin of my teeth as it were. Was very pleased when we received the order to dismiss, which was about 9.30 am. 9.45 am had to parade for gymnasium. Having to skip about to get there by that time. 

The chief “gym” instructor was a very tall and broad man who used to always appear to come on parade in a morning suffering from a very fat head and liver. We all put it down to the after effects of the previous nights pleasure, but that did not recompense us for the rough time which he had in store for us. For I also came in here for a good share of trouble & used to spend if not a very pleasant hour, a most strenuous one. Commencing off with running four times round the Barracks Square. Then Leap Frog, Sword Exercises (How our arms used to ache at this “PASTIME”) and Physical Drill. (Swedish Business). This part of the programme if the weather as suitable took place outside of the “Gyms” which taken all round I did not at all dislike. Then commenced what was called the “Inquisition”, which was in the form of an object called a wooden horse (why it was so named I do not know for it was no more like a horse than chalk is to cheese). It was certainly made of wood. This known to your sorrow if you happened to catch your toes on the top of it. The horse was situated in the “dungeon” (Gymnasium) & all of us had to jump it placed in different positions. There were quite a number of accidents. Chaps breaking or fracturing their arms, ankles etc, and afterwards through there being so many accidents the horse exercises were washed out. This was some time after I was trained so did not gain any advantage. After this followed exercises on the wall bars, which reminded one of a butchers shop (after killing day). All the fellows hanging up like carcases of meat (stiff). Then the fun of the fair appeared on the programme. That useful and interesting art Boxing. I invariably came away from the Gyms with a face like a well beaten beef steak. Being a friend (“I don’t think”) of the chief instructor’s he always contrived to match me against an opponent who understood more about this scientific business than myself. After dismissing, feeling more dead than alive, we retired to the canteen. 

There are three different places which come under the heading of Canteen. First there is what is termed the “Dry Canteen” where you can purchase groceries etc- used chiefly by the married element. Secondly the “Wet Canteen” where “BEER” (not always Government Ale) is sold and frequented mostly by the old soldiers (in army slang called “Old Sweats”). In here is a piano generally and consequently there are plenty of musical evenings held which are as a general rule very jolly affairs. I being a participator in some of these “DOOS”. Plenty of liquor is consumed and all leave (especially if it is the evening following pay day) with “good season” (In other words, “tight”). The last but not least is the Coffee bar sometimes termed the “Babies Refreshment Bar”. Here tea, coffee, cocoa and cakes are procurable. If in London, the proverbial “Downut” & cup of Cocoa were obtainable

From about 10.45 am – 11.15 am we kind of got our second wind. After that to the stables where you had generally two horses to groom as well as kits to clean. Every day the troop officers inspected the horses and saddlery & look out if they were not cleaned to perfection. At 12.55 pm we fed our long faced comrades and retired to the mess room where a sumptuous repast awaited us (“Perhaps”). This consisted of the usual stew palaver “Ugh!” 1.45 pm saw us on parade again. This time foot drill was the order. First the R-S-M inspected the parade, then the Adjutant (R.S.M. toddling up in rear followed by other N.C.Os) had a walk around. Seeing if any culprit had dared to shave his upper lip. There were several of this order and for punishment were awarded seven days C.B. I myself having two or three applications. It was some farce. Some couldn’t have grown a moustache to save their lives. Football teams were well represented. After a time this order was cancelled. It was discovered that fellows fought just as well without a covering on the upper lip as with one. Taken all round these afternoon inspections were trying ordeals and all breathed a sigh of relief when over. It was a case of “Get your hair cut”. “Why haven’t you cleaned your buttons?” etc. Footdrill lasted up to about 3.15 pm. From that time until about 3.50 pm we were instructed in Semaphore, which was found to be very useful in the days to come. Regimental School was at 4 o’clock, the Schoolmaster distilling into our infertile minds the rudiments of Map Reading, French and various other items. (The army routine, when one receives an insight into it discovers that it is much harder to master than one would believe on first impressions. That is if one intends to rise to a higher position than a common o’ garden private. There are a hundred and one things to be mastered). 5.0 pm – 6.0 pm stables and then TEA. (Fall in and see the wild beasts fed). Afterwards if you are not on some kind of duty, the rest of the day was your own. (Please observe the words “If you were not on some kind of duty”). So that sums up a days work in the New Army of a recruit. Finally, when trained, took part in “Field Days” etc. (What a lot etc covers).

During my recruits course I had some very rough times. Thrown off horses, being kicked, bitten and a host of other misfortunes too numerous to mention here. One very serious accident; was this; A Horse fell with me going over a brush jump. I broke my left wrist very badly. This meant a months sojourn at Millbank Hospital Victoria with another month at the Regimental Hospital and one month at home. On my way to Millbank by tube I had to get into a crowded compartment. As the train was crowded a lady getting up offered me her seat and said “Poor wounded soldier you must sit down as I am sure you are not fit to stand”. How I felt would be very difficult to describe on paper. So will leave the reader to his or her opinion Then when arriving at the hospital had to go through a most painful process of having my wrist X-Rayed. I am sure I earned through this business my bread for days after if the “Adam Proverb” was taken into consideration. Viz By the sweat of his brow etc as I sweat something awful, which was caused by such excruciating pain.

 

Here met fellows returned from the firing line. Which put the wind up me. Seeing such awful sights. Men blinded, other with different limbs off etc. This was my first experience of what war was like, and I did not feel at all enthusiastic about the affair. In time though one got used to these & much worse scenes. Treating everything just as a matter of course. This accident turned out a very good thing in one way. As I missed a large draft for France in MAY 1915. A greater number of these men making the Supreme Sacrifice. They say “Its an ill wind that blows no body any good” and this certainly applied to me on this occasion.

I eventually past out of the recruits training and appeared one morning a glorious trained soldier, and very keen to go out and do “My Bit”.

In June 1915 nearly all the trained men went down to Camp, which was pitched in the Stowe Park about four miles from Buckingham (Bucks). Going with our horses by road which was a distance of about seventy miles. Here all the work was new to us. Used to have a mounted field day & then a dismounted one alternately. Finding it very hard work at the commencement. We slept in tents. Eight in each. Any person who has slept in a tent remembers their experiences to the end of their days. How comfortable it is, & the accommodation is so commodious. Especially if the tent is packed to its uttermost extremity. (Whats that?). When boots are taken off at night – Oh My- What a scent ariseth on the midnight air. “I’ll Sing Thee Songs Of Araby” (“Most Horribly”). If it is raining continuously the inside of the tents get into a most awful state and often have to be repitched on higher ground. One Sunday a thunderstorm broke over the camp and being on stable guard I was unable to get to my tent. When I eventually did arrive there, what a mess everything was in to be sure. The floor (otherwise ground) of the tent was swimming with water. Everything soaked. Kits, Mess tins etc all going on a floating excursion down the lines. We had to get to work and dig trenches all around the camp. The water rushing along these channels like mill sluices. Some Game. For the last three weeks at Camp it rained nearly all the time. It was just like living in a quagmire. Horses and men up to their eyes in most beautiful mud. At a future date we were to have the unpleasant experience of discovering that French Mud was much more undesirable than English.

Whilst at camp I made my appearance amongst the upper ten. That is I was made a full blown N.C.O. This made my chest of larger expansions and I carried my right arm well forward. I also joined the Regimental Signallers (otherwise named “Wind Disturbers”). Learning dash-dot.Pip.Pip.C.I etc. Thoroughly enjoyed this part as we went out on some most interesting schemes. Amongst the ruder element we were termed “Leg Swingers” because we didn’t do night guards fatigues or pickets & a little jealousy therefore existed between the “Sigs” and the aforesaid body. We (being the intelligence department of the regiment) did not take any notice of this “leg pulling”. In October we returned back to London, and what a treat it seemed to be back again in barracks. Really, looking back we had some most jolly times in camp and felt much benefitted in health. After a short stay in barracks I went on an Instructors Course of Signalling. Passing with flying colours and receiving an Instructors Certificate. I was the first Kitcheners Army man in our Regiment to have been awarded this kind of certificate. Had to study very hard whist on this course and was very pleased when it terminated. After this I was placed on the Regimental Signalling Staff, which was a very nice “cushy” job. Whilst on this job I made several applications to be sent overseas. All of which were unsuccessful. I was informed at Orderly Room that I was as much needed in Barracks as if I was in France, and doing “My Bit”.

Nothing of much interest to note. Each day the routine been similar to the previous one. So the days slipped by.

When one day I received My Wish and was informed that I was ordered for a draft which was leaving the following morning for France. Naturally I was full of excitement and looking forward with eagerness to the adventure of going out to the “Land Of Mud”. I had always had glorious visions of being played to the station by our Regimental Band. “Conquering Heroes” kind of business. As things turned out I got no further than having the visions. For we went away like “Thieves in the Dead O’Night”. No band, no fluttering handkerchiefs. In fact no nothing. The Clerk of the Weather was the only one who appeared outwardly to sympathize with us. For it literally poured with rain.

We arrived safely down at Southampton. The train being shunted right on to the Docks. Here I was put in charge of a draft by the Embarkation Officer and what I said when this occurred. Well I’m___! I did have a time. We eventually after the tortoise method (slow but sure) got aboard a French Transport named the La France. Head first to see that each man of my draft was in possession of a lifebelt, and after conscientiously so doing found myself without a lifebelt and was informed by the “Ship’s Quarter Bloke” that there was not sufficient belts for everyone. This did not worry me very much. The next business was the drawing of the next days rations. After a lot of uproar this was safely accomplished. Then we had plenty of time to look around, as we did not move out of Southampton Waters until it was dusk.After a lot of rattling of chains et we commenced our voyage. Seeing the shores of Old Blighty disappearing in the distance made one wonder if they would see them again or no (How many poor fellows even on the transport which I was aboard were destned never to see them again). It made one think, when having to face these bare facts. Am getting quite sentimental. So will have to cut this out, as it is hardly an obituary I am trying to write.

What a nice voyage one has aboard a transport. (I don’t think.) Once experienced never forgotten. As soon as the boat gets under way someone commences to feel ill as it were, and then hold tight. The fish must have done very well for refreshment since the war commenced (Stop It.)

During the course of the night most of the fellows get down below stairs, and attempt to sleep, but that’s about all they can do, there being very little room to stretch ones limbs. I continued to keep on deck all night as it was much too stuffy down below. About one of the nearest approaches to what the “Black Hole Of Calcutta” was like. That is my description of “Down Below.”

After a pretty decent voyage as regards the “briny” we arrived in the small hours of the morning off the Coast of France, which we could just discern. With the growing light we slipped into port, and was informed it was Havre. Here we had our breakfasts which consisted of Bully Beef and Biscuits (otherwise called seedcakes.)

Afterwards commencing to march through our first French Town, but did not see the principal parts, our direction going up to the Rest Camp lying through the poorer districts. On our way up French people sold us Biscuits, Chocolate, Fruit etc. At I may say very high prices and were not particular about giving you correct change. Also we were bothered with “Young Froggies” who kept persistently calling us “Souvenir Angleterre”, “Biscuit”, “Bully Beef” etc. This sort of business we soon got used to, it being a daily if not hourly occurrence. It was a most glorious day. It seemed more like summer weather than winter. For the sun shone beautifully and everyone was in the best of spirits until we started to climb from the sea front to the camp which was above the town. We were all in full marching order with blankets and sweat simply rolled off us. Here at this camp we came in touch with our first Y.M.C.A. hut, and trooped off there for cups of tea and buns etc. We only stayed there for a few hours and about 9 pm we went down to the station and got aboard our first French train. Some train and journey. Here again we drew rations for twenty four hours. At last the old French engine gave it funny sweak, a series of bugle blowings, jolts and more groans, and we were really on our way. We did not spend a very restful night of it, packed like herrings in a sardine box, and suffering from very badly cramped limbs. We all summed it up as a very much remembered nightmare.

Next day with a final creak and groan the train drew up at Rouen. Heaving to form up outside in the station yard and we eventually marched off to the Rest Camp, which went under the heading of the Cavalry Details Camp.

Once again sweating and feeling much fed-up we arrived at another camp. We were inspected by the Commandant with Adjt. following up in the rear. Who read out Rules of the Camp etc and we finished up with the usual kit inspection. 

Everyone on their arrival at this camp had twenty four hours leave in which to clean up etc before commencing duties. So when we were dismissed I found out the nearest canteen and had some food. Then retired to the tent to have a good sleep. In the evening I came across some pals, and we went to a concert, where the usual old songs were sung viz “Long Long Trial, Swanee River, Tipperary” etc. (Now all got whiskers on.) Arriving on Saturday night we did not have to report for duty until Monday morning. So we went a tour of inspection on the Sunday finishing up in the Canteen.

Monday morning saw us round the stables at 5.30 am. I was in charge of a party of men thirty in number. As there was a very large number of horses to attend to, not much grooming could be done. After breakfast we had a Mounted Field Day. (Really was just to exercise the horses). It was some great sport as the horses were more or less very fresh & rough handfuls. Some horses threw their riders and careered around the parade ground spare. The officers were not too brilliant with their drill knowledge so it was a “joy ride” kind of business. We returned for dinner and the afternoon was spent in the cleaning of saddler.

Next day I was on Camp Guard for twenty four hours. Nothing of much interest to note.

The following day (having been on guard) we were granted passes to go down into Rouen, which we all agreed was a very fine place. Especially the architecture of Rouen Cathedral which was magnificent. Here at Rouen (not the cathedral) we sampled the various French drinks – Cognac, Malaga, De Beer Citron and other fancy drinks. To say nothing of being let into the mysteries of coffee rums. Oh those “Coffee Rhums.” (The hours I have spent with thee” I couldn’t count them.)

Next day we marched on to the rifle range and spent the morning testing our rifles. Each man firing five rounds of ball ammunition. After dinner we went through a chamber full of poisonous gases for to test our gas helmets. How weird one looks with this covering round their head. Quite a busy day.

The following morning fully equipped we left this camp to join our different Regiments and after about four days tramping about we arrived safely at Regimental Headquarters. I got into a section of which all the fellows were jolly decent. Nearly all Londoners (Cockneys) and we had some very happy times. I was nicknamed “Wind Disturber” (as I was a signaller). Had adventures too innumerable to record here, and consequently will just mention a few of the most important ones. Whilst back in billets we had three wild boar hunts and had great success in killing each time. The most remarkable thing about the whole affair was this – the troop to which I belonged killed the boar on the three successive occasions, which we all thought was a very good record. The “Maire” and villagers with exclamations (the chief one Bon Affair (“Good Affair”) was heard on all side) escorted the prize to our billet. Having been blessed by the Gods we were the happy possessors of an ex-butcher in the troop. Who all set about in a workmanlike manner to make the carcas presentable. Our troop Officer (who by the way was Lord Algernon Leveson-Gower) was very pleased with his troops achievements, and on the three occasions paid all expenses, use of room, and liquors. So we had three most jolly banquets, leaving all Merry and Bright. Our troop officer was really a good soldier and greatly respercted by the boys. (Not because of the banquets but because he was an allround decent officer.)

Our “Squadron Leader” possessed three magnificent dogs. (Kind of Deer Hounds). So when he was on leave in England (Having left the the dogs with us Nothing would satisfy the crew but that we should take these animals and have an afternoons Rabbit Coursing. Well all was going Top Hole and we had seen four rabbits meet their doom. When – the best dog put a rabbit yp & was after it full pelt. Wor betide us , we had just reached the heights of our enjoyment and a French gamekeeper (Strafe Him) popped his head over a hedge and with a sporting gun shot the dog stone dead. Oh-Brimstone & Fire. What a calamity. “Who saw him die” Boo-ooo. What excitement on the arrival back of the Captain. This gentleman (who was gifted with a fluent flow of language) brought into action these weapons on hearing the news and Oh Dear how thick the air seemed – So ended Poor Old Lion.

One evening we were invited by a French Madame to have dinner with her family. We naturally accepted this kind offer. Her home was out of our travelling bounds, but this matter did not damp our ardour. There being four of us, all trusted pals away we went to have a good time. We evaded the Military Police, and arrived at Madame’s house safely. Madame had been a cook in Paris so we were informed, whilst Monsieur was an ex gendarmarie (police) and had previously resided in Calais. There was only one young Olive Branch who was a very nice young Masemoiselle about 8 years of age. One of my chums who had spent most of his life in France acted as interpretor between the two parties. (Told them the tale like). All we (the others) knew of French at this period was Bon! Wee-Wee Bon jour Bon Soir and other words for bread, Water etc. The Monsieur was a very jolly red faced individual, and the possessor of a very large corporation. Madame was of smaller stature and a motherly old dame. On our arrival Madame said that the English soldiers must have an appetiser before dinner. I did not think so because I was then as hungry as a hunter, and after one of these drinks I should have reached the full extent of the famished stages. Anyway for politeness we sampled one of the appetisers each and voted them very good.Then we retired to the back sitting room where awaited us a most beautiful dinner. What a treat it was to see a nice clean table cloth, knives, forks, glasses etc. The repast consisted of soup, fish, Roast Veal and vegetables most delicious. With Salad and pudding to follow. We had all kinds of good old wines which were brought up out of the cellar in bottles looking very dusty and cobwebby with age. Continually during the meal the old Monsieur patted his corporation and said "Bon" (Good), amidst exclamations from the guests. We offered to pay for the cost of the wines, but this request was indignantly refused by the host and hostess. So to settle the arguement we each gave young Madamoiselle one franc. Coming away about two o'clock the following morning, and in the Army term "well-oiled" having spent a most enjoyable evening.

his has up to now been all the sunny side of Active Service, and now for some of the dark sided affairs. One night when we were on our way up to take part in the 1st BATTLE OF THE SOMME I had a most exciting and busy time. We were to commence our third nights march towards Albert at 5pm in the evening. Well, about a quarter of an hour before we started it came on to rain cats and dogs. Having no cape or overcoat I was soon wet to the skin, and in a very miserable frame of mind. After been on the line of march for about three hours we received orders to turn into the side of the road and off saddle to give the horses a short rest. We halted quite close to a railway crossing and whilst in the process of saddling up again a French Porter flashed a hand lamp into my horses face, with the disastrous result of my "gee" bolting down the road. saddle and equipment of course falling in the nice clean mud. After a lot of swears etc he was recovered and I found my saddle in a most awful state, but this was only the commencement of my troubles. For we were saddling up a very troublesome horse, and the officer was kicked and fell on your humble. He was of great avoirdupois and I naturally suffered in consequence. Was knocked out of time and my left arm badly torn by barbed wire. Getting on the move again my horse was caught on the hind quarters by a Hotchkiss Gun Ammunition Pack. Horse and rider thrown spinning into the hedge bottom. Then when we did arrive at a camp I was ordered for night guard and finished up the End of yet another Perfect Day feeling exceedingly stiff, tired and very much choked.

Then those expeditions up the line. Some Stunts. In the trenches, sand bagging, fatigues, burying of the dead, and hosts of other duties too numerous to mention here.

It was some life and not easily forgotten. I shall never forget the SOMME BATTLEFIELD. How we used to go up there mounted for to go through the gap as cavalry. Times out of number we were disappointed. The weather seemed to be always so unfavourable for the British Offensives. It used to rain and absolutely teem down. When going up to take part in the 1st Battle Of The Somme the infantry fellows gave us a good reception and said that we should be bound to go over the top mounted in a day or so. We were all in very high spirits and hitching to be at "Old Jerry". Then the rain came and dashed our hopes to the ground. We finished up in the line dismounted as usual. It was a fine sight to witness. The moving of the cavbalry up to the line. There was Indian Cav. (Bengal Lancers) who looked a very smart lot (seated on their fine blood horses) regally arrayed in turbans and possessing well-groomed beards. Then there was the Canadian Cav, and different regiments of English Cavalry. In their full war paint viz Tin Hats, respirators etc. All dressed up and somewhre to go (not nowhere).

As one got nearest to the line the thunder of guns could be heard somewhat too distinctly, and at night reflections of star shells and gun flashes could be plainly seen.

Oh those marches up to go into the trenches. Never to be forgotten episodes. Going up to the trenches in silence. Shell fire and bullets singing by made all of us feel jumpy with a tendency to shake at the knees; especially when a bullet whipped by nearer than its fellows. Arriving at the communications trench we scrambled in, and by a tortuous method made headway for our allotted position. We realised after a series of flounderings that the floor of the trench was deep in water and in future always tried wisely to walk on the "Duck Boards". First impression was smell. Wet, slimy, stinking (much) mud rose to reach us on all sides and made us wonder how we were going to exist for our period of occupation.Very unpleasant at any time, but how much worse when raining. Pitch dark. You slip and slide all over the place, and say a few swears more than once. Hearing rifles cracking, machine guns "Pom Poming", bullets zipping none too far away, whilst innumerable star shells illuminate with ghastly glare the surrounding landscape. How weird everything seemed, and how one wished to be back in Old Blighty. Every time going up you would wonder if there was a Blighty one ("with your name on") waiting for you, and when seeing your pals killed and wounded; had rudely brought before your mind the old saying "one shall be taken and the other left". So that is a slight idea of how the war proceeded at this period. It was so much time up the line, and then out for a rest in billets behind. Then there was a lot of training to be done. Getting knocked into ship-shape formation to take part in the contemplated British Offensives.